The Art of Artifice
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Legolas and his friends are accustomed to dealing with the perils of the battlefield. Navigating the intrigues of court will prove far more difficult. Sequel to "Doubt".
1. Whom to Trust

**Author's Note: **I'm going to be out of town for a few days, and… Well, I had to get started on this before I left. As things stand, it'll be complete in five chapters, though I might change my mind about that later.

This comes directly after _Doubt _in the story arc, and it will help to have read at least that to understand this.

**Summary: **Legolas and his friends are accustomed to dealing with the perils of the battlefield. Navigating the intrigues of court will prove far more difficult.

* * *

**The Art of Artifice**

**Part I: Whom to Trust**

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Legolas could not help but smile as he dropped to the edge of the bed. Saeldur was notoriously terrified of healers. Legolas' second-in-command would face an Orc's blade without flinching, but it took three Elves to hold him down to be stitched up afterwards.

Or, in this instance, one Elf with enough experience to know how to handle him.

"Stop squirming," Legolas ordered, sliding a hand around Saeldur's shoulders to help him sit. "The sooner you let Feredir begin, the sooner it will be done and we can all return to our duties."

Saeldur looked around to make sure nobody but Legolas and Feredir was in the room before he let himself slump against Legolas' shoulder.

"This is your duty," he grunted. "Or is my prince telling me he has a more important duty than attending to warriors who have been grievously injured in his service?"

"You have a cut on your leg," Feredir said, unimpressed. "You will barely even feel it in two days. Hold him still, Legolas."

At the first prick of the needle, Saeldur's hand closed, painfully tight, around Legolas' forearm.

* * *

"Was that really so bad?" Legolas asked fifteen minutes later.

Saeldur's only response was a surprisingly strong smack aimed at Legolas' arm.

"If you can hit me that hard," Legolas said wryly, "you will be fit for patrols tomorrow."

"You will sit with him until Lord Belegur arrives?" Feredir asked. "I do not know about attending to grievously injured warriors, but listening to the complaints of archers who turn into children when they see the inside of a Healing Ward is your duty, not mine."

Legolas laughed. "I will stay with him."

"Good. I am leaving, then."

There was something in Feredir's voice that made Legolas glance at him sharply. But Feredir only shook his head in a manner that said clearly _not now_.

Saeldur waited for Feredir to leave the room before he sagged more heavily against Legolas' shoulder. Legolas felt a moment's concern, but it dissipated when Saeldur muttered, "Why is Feredir's needle ten times worse than any Morgul blade?"

"Because you are Legolas' brave and trusted second-in-command when facing Morgul blades and a pampered little Sindarin lordling in the Healing Wards," said a new voice.

Legolas rolled his eyes. Saeldur raised his head just enough to scowl at Voronwë before dropping it again.

"I would speak to you, Saeldur," Voronwë went on.

Legolas stiffened. He had spent most of that morning having a whispered argument with Eredhion and Voronwë – or, more precisely, being lectured by them on the subject of caution while he vainly attempted to talk sense. Four weeks ago Eredhion had unexpectedly entered Legolas' sitting-room in time to see Legolas drink a cup of wine Saeldur had poured for him. Nothing had happened, Legolas had not been taken violently ill, and the wine had not been poisoned. That was not enough to satisfy his guards.

He turned now to tell Voronwë this was neither the time nor the place, but Saeldur put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"What is it?" he asked, straightening.

Voronwë pulled up a chair to the other side of the bed. "I… I have been thinking. And… I think Legolas is right. I was wrong to doubt you. Forgive me."

Saeldur's eyes widened. He had not been expecting that. Neither had Legolas, but long years of sitting in Council helped him maintain a neutral expression.

"I would die before I let Legolas come to harm," Saeldur said at last.

"I know." Voronwë shook his head. "I… It is not that… It is not because Legolas trusts you. Legolas is entirely too trusting." Legolas pressed his lips together, his expression turning into an outright frown when Saeldur nodded agreement. "But… Well, _you _trust Legolas. It would be impossible for you to trust him if it were in your heart to betray him."

Saeldur let out a breath. "And Eredhion –"

"I agree," Eredhion said from behind Legolas. "We were wrong to doubt you, Saeldur. I –"

Saeldur shook his head, cutting off Eredhion's apology. "Considering how freely I was forgiven for a far greater wrong," he said, glancing at Legolas, "it would be churlish in me to bear a grudge now."

Eredhion smiled, but whatever else he had intended to say was interrupted by the entry of Rochendilwen and Aeroniel, who had just returned from patrol duty.

"I am told the guards in the corridor outside the royal quarters could hear you complaining, Saeldur," Aeroniel said by way of greeting. "I would not be surprised if travellers on the Forest Path heard you as well. How bad was it this time?"

Saeldur glared at her. "You might have a little consideration for my injury."

"We do," Rochendilwen assured him. "Colfind thinks it will be a week before you stop complaining about the stitches. I told him it would only be five days. I have a fine throwing knife hanging on your courage in the face of life-threatening injury –"

"Legolas!" Saeldur appealed. "You cannot allow them to mock me like this!"

Legolas laughed. "What my archers do and say when they are off duty is no concern of mine."

* * *

It was an hour before Lord Belegur arrived. Legolas handed Saeldur into his care, refusing his invitation to come and sup with them on the grounds of having too much work to do before the next day's War Council.

When he left the Healing Wards, though, it was not to his room or to his study he went, but outside to the _talan_ Feredir shared with his sisters Melda and Calathiel.

Feredir was alone, which was a relief, but that he was there at all would have been unusual at any other time. At this hour Feredir was normally in the dining hall, or joining one of the many groups of Elves singing and making merry by the river. He was certainly not in the habit of staying home burying himself in thick volumes of philosophy.

"Is there a reason you are sitting here by yourself reading books even Mithrandir thinks are dull?" Legolas asked without preamble.

"At the moment I appear to be the only Elf who can stand my company," Feredir said, trying for a light tone. In response to Legolas' raised eyebrows, he continued, "Legolas, with what Calathiel is asking…" He turned away. "She has never lacked courage."

"No. She has not. Nor have you, Feredir."

"I have never had the stomach for battle. Legolas, even if the Council approved Calathiel's request, I could not… I could never…"

"Nobody would expect it of you."

"You mean _you _would not expect it of me. Nor would your father." Feredir sighed. "Do you know how many times I have heard myself spoken of as a coward since I gave up my sword?"

"Feredir –"

"In all the years since then, Legolas, I have not heard it as many times as I have in the last two weeks."

"You know it is not true. Why should you care what people say? Those who know _you_ know you are no coward. Courage has nothing to do with battle."

Feredir laughed bitterly. "So says the finest archer in the Elven realms. But it is worse than that. If they were only speaking ill of _me_, I would not mind so much, but… They say it of my father as well."

"Lord Thorontur?" Legolas asked in bewilderment. "Why should they say it of him any more than they do of Maeglad or Lord Arbellason or my father? They all gave up active duty."

"Your father gave up active duty when he became King. Some might have criticized him nonetheless, but he gave us in his stead his son to be our warrior-prince." Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but Feredir forestalled him. "You are what you are, Legolas, and I do not blame you for it. But do you imagine it escapes notice that my father and I gave up warriors' duties at the same time?"

Legolas sighed. He felt bad for Feredir, but they had all learnt very young that court gossip would take its course regardless of anything they did or said.

"What does this have to do with Calathiel?" he asked.

"What do you think people will say when they learn that my sister is willing to go to battlefields as a healer, but that I will stay here, safely behind the gates of the stronghold?" Feredir made a helpless gesture. "You have no idea how I envy you, Legolas. Oh, I know Norgalad complains and Míron complains, but in the end… You have always been the son your father needed."

* * *

It was in a much more reflective mood that Legolas went to the archers' hall. He would be taking Saeldur's duty for the late patrol, but there were some things he had to do first.

On the way he stopped at the guard post, where one of Ellaurë's captains was the duty officer.

"Is there anything to report, Meluial?"

"One of the patrols found a pair of spiders," the _elleth_ said. "They destroyed them, of course, and Lady Ellaurë has sent scouts to see if there is a nest."

"I hope not," Legolas murmured. "But I would not depend on that hope. The foul creatures multiply faster than we can cull them."

"Mithrandir came by. He was looking for you. I believe he has gone to the archery ranges now."

"I will speak to him. Thank you, Meluial."

He did indeed find Mithrandir at the ranges. The Wizard was watching the archers of the Home Guard. The light was beginning to fade, but they were still making a fair contest of it. While they were no match for Legolas' archers, they were skilled, and Mithrandir's eyes glinted with appreciation.

"My Elven-prince," Mithrandir said, smiling broadly when he saw Legolas. "I began to fear I would have to leave without seeing you."

"Do you mean to leave tonight?"

"I mean to leave this very hour. I must go south, to Lothlórien, and speak to its Lord and Lady." He raised a hand to forestall Legolas' question. "I know you have long wanted to see the Golden Wood, but it will not be Mithrandir who introduces you to the Lady Galadriel."

Legolas could feel laughter bubbling up despite himself. "Why not?"

"Because she has changed greatly in the days since Thranduil knew her. I believe you would quite like her if you met her now, and then your father would take my beard to trim his cloak." He tugged his own cloak more securely about his shoulders. "I have a favour to ask of you Legolas, both on my behalf and on that of… others with whom I have taken counsel."

"What favour, my lord?"

"I am no Elven-lord, Thranduilion. I want you to… keep watch. Radagast will speak to our friends among the birds and the beasts, of course, but if anybody might hear more than he does of what happens beneath these trees…"

"What am I to watch for?"

"When the time comes, _if _the time comes, the agents of the Enemy will be on the move. I do not know how, or where. You are an experienced warrior, Legolas. I do not doubt that you will know the difference between Orcs who are simply causing wanton destruction and Orcs… with a more sinister purpose. Listen, and watch, and if there is anything you think I should know…"

"I will get word to you."

"Tell Radagast. He will know where to reach me. Trust to no letters – not even if I am in Imladris."

Legolas' eyes widened. "Is all well in Imladris?"

"Oh, yes. You need not worry about that. But you should go there when you have time. Perhaps in the spring, when the snow melts in the High Pass. You can spend the summer there and return before winter makes the journey impossible. It will do you good."

"If I go in the spring…" Legolas shook his head. "I cannot leave at a time like this."

Mithrandir looked suddenly very serious. "Legolas, I know you are loyal to your father and his subjects, and I expect no less. You know I will not give you counsel, but… I am worried. I have fears I dare not utter here. They may never come to pass. But if they do, it may be that you can serve your people best… elsewhere. I would have you mentally prepared for that."

"Mithrandir." Legolas and Mithrandir both turned at the sound of the voice. The King stood a few feet away from them. "What are you telling my son?" he asked, drawing near.

The Wizard smiled. "Well is it said that there is one thing the Elven-king loves more than his gold."

Thranduil scoffed. "You have courage, to stand in my realm and repeat the idle chatter of Noldorin households. And you may help yourself to all the gold you can carry, with my goodwill, if that will buy me a promise that you will not involve Legolas in your schemes."

"A fair offer, but I think I must refuse. I have no use for gold, and I am very likely to require your son's help."

"I am certain the Noldo in Imladris can provide archers."

"He can, but he cannot provide Legolas."

Thranduil scowled. "It is well you are leaving, Mithrandir."

* * *

To spare Saeldur walking to Legolas' study (and, as Rochendilwen muttered, to spare everyone else the whining if he did), Legolas and his captains met in the clearing beside Belegur and Celephindeth's home. It was private, and they could count on being undisturbed – and unobserved.

"You have all had time to think about Calathiel's request," Legolas began when everyone had gathered, "and to speak to Calathiel and the other healers. The King intends to discuss it in tomorrow's meeting of the War Council."

"When does it go to court?" asked Rochendilwen.

"In four days' time, assuming nothing happens to delay it." Legolas looked around. "And now, what do you think?"

Colfind was the first to speak. "I think it is a good idea, if Calathiel, or any healer, can satisfy the weapons masters. She is not wrong in believing that lives might be saved – or at any least a good deal of pain spared."

He cast a glance at Saeldur as he finished, and the ensuing laughter lightened the sombre mood that had descended on them.

"I agree," offered Rochendilwen. "And as much for the healers' sakes as for the warriors'. Those who want to serve should have the chance. It is not for us to question their courage."

"It is not," said Aeroniel. "If I have any doubts at all, they are about whether any healers could be taught to use bows, or blades for that matter, well enough for self-defence. But that is a matter for the weapons masters. If a healer can learn enough to satisfy Lord Thorontur or Lord Maeglad…"

"It will be more than any of us has ever done," laughed Legolas. Then he turned to the one who had, so far, remained silent. "Saeldur?"

Saeldur's clear grey eyes met his. "No."

Legolas had been half-expecting that, as, by her slight shrug, had Aeroniel, but Rochendilwen and Colfind both looked surprised.

"Why not?" Colfind demanded.

"Because it is not a simple question of weapons training. Healers in the field will not be helping the warriors as much as they will be putting them at risk." Saeldur's eyes darkened. "Non-combatants do _not _belong on a battlefield."

There was a moment's silence.

It was broken by Rochendilwen. "Forgive me, Saeldur, but I must say this. We are not speaking of an awkward and ill-judged foray into a battlefield by one who is completely unprepared. If this is accepted by the King's Council, the healers will be trained, just as we were trained."

"Training cannot prepare you for a battlefield."

"They will be as prepared as we were."

"That is different." Saeldur glanced at Legolas. "Warriors are trained to obey their commanding officers in the field – always, without question, no matter what. Healers think first of their charges. It is good that they do, and I do not begrudge it. But tell me, what would Calathiel do if she were on the field, and you ordered her not to go to an injured warrior? What would any healer do?"

"No commanding officer would order such a thing without good reason," Legolas said mildly.

"No healer will accept such an order without argument. You know that as well as I do. It is not in them."

"You are being a little unfair," Aeroniel protested. "No healer has been given the chance yet. I imagine the lowest apprentice in the Healing Wards would consider himself fitter to decide how best to care for the injured than any member of the War Council, or for that matter the King. But even Barancrist would not dream of disobeying a warrior on duty outside the stronghold."

"Barancrist would not. Calathiel would."

"She is barely more than a child. She will learn." Aeroniel smiled. "I remember a young novice archer who chafed at every order, and on one of his first training expeditions decided to ignore his officer's orders altogether."

Saeldur smiled in response, though it seemed a little forced. "In my defence, the officer on duty that day _deserved _to have his orders ignored, and I am very glad that I did." He sighed. "I will not ask you not to support this in Council or in court, Legolas. If you think it is best… I trust you. Only… Promise me that nobody will be allowed to ride with the archers unless they are ready. In every way."

"I would have said that in any case. Even if Council and court both permit this, nobody will ride with the archers unless we are all in agreement about the specific individual."

* * *

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	2. The King's War Council

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Part II: The King's War Council**

"You know why I have called you," Thranduil said, when everyone had taken a seat.

There was an unusual undercurrent of tension running through the room. The Elves on the War Council were normally on excellent terms, all completely loyal to the King and all extremely skilled warriors and commanders. They liked and respected each other; there was no other way they could have defended the realm as successfully as they did. There were disagreements in Council, but never real ill-will.

This morning, though, there _was _ill-will.

The King of the Woodland Realm let out a breath. Apparently Arbellason's advice had been wise.

"As you are aware," he said, keeping his voice cheerful in an attempt to break the tension, "it is Calathiel's wish that she, and consequently any other healers who wish it, should be allowed to go onto battlefields to be of more immediate assistance to warriors. This is, naturally, a… difficult subject." He looked around, growing serious. "I understand that there will be strong views, but I will not have my most trusted commanders quarrelling before the full Council. If there is anything to be said, say it now."

Thorontur barely waited for Thranduil to finish speaking before he snapped, "Calathiel is a fool! You _cannot _be thinking of allowing this!"

"Why should we not allow it?" demanded Bercalion. "Nobody is sending non-combatants into _battle_, Thorontur. They will be out of the way of any fighting."

"They will still be in danger."

"No more than Elves who live away from the stronghold, particularly in the southern part of the forest," Ellaurë said. "If you can respect that it is their choice to do so…"

"No," Thorontur repeated stubbornly. "That is not the same thing. To force Elves from their homes, when they themselves have no desire to leave, would be to give in to the fear of the Enemy. Sending healers to fight battles in unnecessary and dangerous."

"Is it not acting in fear of the Enemy to prevent them?" Mídhaer protested. "They will not go to fight battles, only to assist the wounded."

"They may not intend to fight, but how certain can any of us be that they will be able to avoid it, even with the best intentions of their captains in the field?"

Arbellason frowned slightly. "Thorontur, I understand how you feel, but –"

"_Do_ you, Arbellason?" There was a hard edge to Thorontur's voice. "Have _you_ ever sent a child into battle?"

"_I_ have," Mídhaer snapped, unable to restrain herself. "Rochendilwen might not be my own child, but Elbereth knows I love her as though she were."

"Rochendilwen is a fine archer," Thorontur responded. "_She_ can defend herself."

"We will send nobody anywhere near the field before they have learnt enough of both the bow and the sword to satisfy the weapons masters," Legolas interjected. "They will be able to defend themselves at need."

Thorontur scowled at him. "I see my daughter won you over."

"I understand how she feels, my lord," Legolas said. Mild as he sounded, there was also an undertone of firmness that said he did not intend to be bullied into backing down.

Thranduil suppressed a smile. His son was growing up.

"Do you understand that if we send non-combatants into the field, they might be killed?" Thorontur demanded.

Legolas' eyes narrowed, but he sounded calm as he responded. "I assure you I understand that perfectly well, my lord. Any of us might be killed."

"Ellaurë," Arbellason cut in, clearly hoping to defuse the situation, "if we permit this, the healers will begin with your patrols. We will certainly not be sending them to the borders, or for that matter with Legolas' archers, until they have had some experience. What do you say?"

Ellaurë half-smiled. "The healers may not have learnt warcraft, but it is not for us to doubt their courage. Perhaps that is for them to decide."

"There is a reason they have never permitted been on the battlefield before," Mîr-megil said, speaking for the first time. "The sight can be disturbing, especially to those who are unused to it."

Maeglad shook his head. "I doubt healers are frightened of blood and broken bones. They have certainly seen their share."

"This is no joking matter," Mîr-megil insisted. "Seeing the aftermath of a fight is not the same thing as seeing a fight. Will they be prepared for it?"

"I think we might trust their own judgement of that," said Mídhaer. "We trust our novices, after all."

"It is unthinkable," Thorontur snapped.

Thranduil kept his expression neutral despite his urge to sigh. It was clear, to him at least, that no amount of reasoning would change Thorontur's mind. Worse, his attitude was making the others unwilling to listen to what would, if Thorontur would only make them rationally, be very persuasive arguments for his case.

Mídhaer, meanwhile, was scowling at the Archery Master.

"I have a question for _you_," she said, in a voice that sounded oddly dangerous.

"Ask it, then," said Thorontur.

"It has been many, many years, but I trust you have not forgotten the day when, sitting in this same Council chamber, we debated whether it was wise to let Legolas go on patrols and into battle, in peril of his life, as often as he does. You said then – you said it fiercely and with conviction, and I agreed with you – that we could not deny his right to do all he could to defend the realm, especially since Thranduil had given up active martial duty."

There was a pregnant pause.

"What are you saying to me?" Thorontur snarled, every word like ice.

"I am saying you have no qualms about the risks warriors take. You actively _supported _Legolas' wish to risk his own life."

"Mídhaer," Îdhron protested. "You cannot truly mean what you are implying."

"Are you suggesting, Lady Mídhaer," Thorontur said, even more coldly, "that I do not care about my archers, or that I do not care about Legolas? Which is it?"

"They are Legolas' archers." Mídhaer matched his tone. "Or Thranduil's archers. They have not been _your _archers since you gave up command to an Elf whose life you appear perfectly willing to wager –"

"Do not _dare_."

"Mídhaer," Arbellason interjected, before she could respond. "Please, calm yourself. Thorontur, she asks a legitimate question –"

"_No._" Thorontur rounded on his friend, outrage and betrayal on his face. "You, of all people –"

"Yes," Arbellason said calmly. "I of all people. All people will say this, Thorontur, and those who are too frightened to say it to your face will say it in your absence. You know that as well as I. Better that you should answer that question in this chamber than be unprepared when it is asked outside it."

"My lord," Legolas began tentatively, but Thranduil waved him to silence.

Thorontur caught the gesture. His scowl deepened. "What question, Arbellason? Mídhaer?" he demanded. "Do I care less for Legolas' life and safety than I do for the children of my blood? Is that your question?"

Arbellason did not flinch under his glare. "That is my question."

"If you truly believe that… Morgoth take you all. I never thought to hear that accusation in _this _Council."

"Outrage is not an answer," said Mídhaer.

"Why skate around the issue?" Thorontur growled. "Tell me I do not care for Legolas. Tell me I have not grieved over every drop of his blood spilled as much as Thranduil has. Look me in the eye and say it!"

"Whether or not Mídhaer says it, there are others who will," said Arbellason. "People are whispering it already. Do you intend to silence everyone with stories of how much you have suffered over Legolas' injuries?"

"I will not sit here and listen to this!"

The door banged shut behind him.

"I think we all need time to think over how we feel," Thranduil said into the stunned silence. "Since nobody appears to have given me a reason _not _to put this to Council, it will go into the order of business as scheduled. Council will meet in four days' time. War Council will meetthe night before that. I strongly urge you all to sort out your ideas by then, since I would like to have a coherent discussion and not… a repetition of today. Everyone is to attend. Reschedule your other duties if you must," he added to Legolas, Ellaurë and Îdhron. "I need hardly remind you that, whatever your views, there will be no arguing in public, and certainly not before the warriors. Dismissed."

As Thranduil got to his feet, he glanced at Legolas, a slight nod indicating that he wanted his son to stay behind.

As soon as everyone had left, they went through the connecting door to the King's study.

"Sit," Thranduil said, indicating the chairs by the hearth. "Unfortunately it is too early in the morning for wine."

"Do you need wine, then?" Legolas asked, amused. "Or do you imagine I do?"

"A little of both." Thranduil sat. It was still near enough to summer that there was no fire in the grate. "Thorontur has not spoken to you of this, yet, has he?"

"I think he hoped my captains would oppose it and relieve him of the need."

"He is not thinking entirely dispassionately about this. Do not let him upset you." Thranduil shook his head. "He has surprised me in the past few weeks. If anything, I thought he would be likelier than Celebwen to approve Calathiel's idea." He glanced at his son. "I remember him, when Feredir first took up the sword. To tell the truth, _I _was terrified then – it was so very clear that Feredir was never meant to be a warrior. Thorontur was worried, but not unduly so. I would understand if he disagreed with the scheme, but this reaction… This is not like him."

Legolas only nodded.

"There is one other thing I wanted to tell you," Thranduil went on. "I intend to summon the captains tonight." He paused. "Only the captains. Not their commanding officers. I had word sent to them before this morning's Council."

Legolas laughed at that. "Do you fear that we intimidate our captains so much that you cannot bear to have us present when you speak to them?"

"In your case, at least, I would be likelier to get the truth from your captains if you were present. They would consider it betrayal to disagree with you in your absence. But I would rather not risk Thorontur hearing what they might say."

"You truly do think he will react badly."

"I truly do not know how he will react." Thranduil reached out to squeeze his son's shoulder. "He is supervising your archers this morning, I believe."

Legolas nodded. "He will walk down with me, if he is not too angry."

Thranduil smiled. "I hope he does. He ought not be teaching anybody anything in his present mood. If anyone can calm him after this morning, you can."

* * *

Saeldur's leg had healed well enough to allow him to walk to the practice ranges and supervise the archers. This would normally have been Legolas' morning for that duty, but considering what the War Council had intended to discuss, _especially _considering the contents of the note a page had brought him that morning, he had a feeling his friend might thank him for taking it over.

The archers, sensing the tension in the air, and a little disturbed by the fact that neither Legolas nor Thorontur had yet appeared, were nowhere near achieving their normal pinpoint precision. Saeldur had coaxed and lectured and scolded by turns, but nothing had had any effect.

"And furthermore," he said, drawing a breath to continue telling off a pair of archers who had been so worried about outdoing each other that neither had managed a respectable showing in the past half-hour. "The next time I see you looking at your partner's target instead of your own –"

Then he stopped short, staring at the path that led from the stronghold through the courtyard to the archery ranges. Legolas and Thorontur were coming down it together. One glance was enough to tell Saeldur they had been arguing. It appeared Council had been even more acrimonious than Legolas had anticipated.

"Go," he said shortly to the pair of archers before him.

"Go… where, Lord Saeldur?" Húrphen asked.

Saeldur rolled his eyes at the use of his formal title, a sign that Húrphen feared he truly was in disgrace.

"Go anywhere," he said. "If either Legolas or Lord Thorontur sees another round of _that_ this morning, the consequences may be such as even I would not wish on you. Go work some of your rivalry off with your knives if you have nothing else to do."

Húrphen and Ornil practically scampered in their haste to get away.

Legolas and Thorontur parted when they reached the archery ranges. Thorontur went to relieve Rochendilwen, who was supervising a dozen archers as they loosed arrows at small clay balls their fellow-warriors were throwing into the air for them. Saeldur saw more than one of the targets hit the ground without ever having been touched by an arrow, and he could not help wincing for whichever archers would be judged responsible.

Legolas walked off to the side, where he could watch all the ranges. He barely acknowledged Rochendilwen's greeting as he passed her.

Saeldur raised his eyebrows. It must have been a very acrimonious Council meeting indeed.

* * *

Saeldur could not help cringing as he watched. He had seen Thorontur in a worse mood than this only once, and then he had been so unrelenting in his displeasure that even Legolas had fumbled his shots. The archers on the field now had no chance. In minutes they were all shooting wide, untouched balls thudding to the ground like hailstones.

Saeldur looked at Legolas. Surely he was going to say something.

Legolas' jaw was tight, but he maintained his silence.

Saeldur exchanged a glance with Rochendilwen.

* * *

Thorontur scowled as another archer grouped her arrows in an untidy cloud around the centre of the target.

"My lord," Saeldur said, since nobody else appeared to be saying anything, "perhaps a short rest –"

"Rest? Do you think the Enemy is resting in his stronghold, Saeldur? I will not have it said that I sent warriors out inadequately prepared –"

"Lord Thorontur." Legolas' voice, quiet but firm, cut into Thorontur's before he could get well begun on his diatribe. Saeldur had not heard him approach, but he stood just behind the Archery Master now. "May I have a word with you in private, my lord?"

Without waiting for a response, he walked off in the direction of the archers' hall, which Saeldur knew would probably be empty just then. Anyone who did not have training would have slipped away to avoid catching his eye.

Thorontur followed, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Get back to practice," Saeldur ordered, before the archers could begin gathering in groups to gossip. That was the closest to a public argument Legolas and Thorontur had ever come, and the less said about it, the better.

For a time, there was no sound save the twanging of bowstrings and the barely-audible thwacks of arrows hitting their targets.

Nearly a quarter an hour passed before the door into the hall opened again. Thorontur stepped out. He seemed outwardly calm, but there was something in his eye that suggested his temper was close to snapping.

"Whoever has the next patrol, go and get ready for it," he said. "The rest of you may have the morning free. You will have training after lunch as usual."

He went back inside, shutting the door again.

"Go," Saeldur said in response to the questioning looks he received. "And take the morning to think about how you can do better in the afternoon. If you shoot like this with Lord Thorontur only raising his voice, I cannot imagine what sort of precision you hope to achieve in an actual battle."

He got more than one reproachful look. Most of the archers were more terrified of Thorontur's – and, worse, Legolas' – disappointment than they were of Orcs and giant spiders. But they went, leaving him alone with Rochendilwen.

"Should we go and see?" she asked.

Saeldur shrugged, going to the door. "If Legolas wants us gone, he will tell us so."

He knocked, pushing the door open as soon as he was bidden.

Legolas and Thorontur stood a few feet from the door, clearly in the middle of an argument. They stepped away from each other when Saeldur and Rochendilwen entered the room.

"What is it, Saeldur? Does anyone have any questions?" Thorontur asked.

"No, my lord. We just thought… If there is something wrong…"

He trailed off, glancing at Legolas.

"I appreciate your concern," Legolas said quietly. "There is nothing wrong."

Thorontur nodded. "We… Only needed to have a brief discussion. I must go now. I have business with…" He shook his head. "I have other business." He started to go; then, as though he could not help himself, he turned and told Saeldur, "Make certain everyone is on the ranges as usual this afternoon."

"Of course, my lord," said Saeldur, astonished that Thorontur though he needed to be told that. "As you said."

Thorontur grimaced. "Had we been doing what _I _said, this morning's training would not have been cancelled at all."

Saeldur's eyes widened at the implication. He had suspected as much, but this was confirmation that Legolas had overruled Thorontur to insist that training be cancelled. It had been done privately, and while the archers might guess, they would never _know_. And it was within Legolas' rights to do that. But it was a right he seldom exercised.

And that Thorontur should as good as admit it to Saeldur and Rochendilwen…

"I will not have the archers going into battle inadequately prepared," Thorontur went on. That was a normal enough statement, but there was something in his tone.

"Lord Thorontur," Legolas said, and although his voice was perfectly even, Saeldur could tell he was frustrated, "I am not responsible for what Lady Mídhaer says in Council. Neither are my archers."

Thorontur only inclined his head formally. "I will see you in the morning."

Legolas fortunately managed to wait until the door had shut behind him before he gave vent to a combination of Sindarin and Quenya that made Rochendilwen giggle.

* * *

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	3. Where Loyalties Lie

**Author's Note: **So here's the next part – I hope you enjoy it.

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed. :) I've responded to those I could, but please remember that if you ask questions, I can't answer them unless you sign in.

Quick sort-of-warning… You're not going to see Legolas or Thranduil very much in this particular chapter, but I hope that doesn't put anyone off. Enjoy reading!

* * *

**Part III: Where Loyalties Lie**

Rochendilwen quickly sobered when Saeldur said, "What happened in Council, Legolas? What did Lady Mídhaer say?"

"Nothing that need be repeated," Legolas replied, in a tone that was just slightly too calm. "I will take the evening patrol, since you will be with the King –"

"_We _will be with the King?" Rochendilwen said, startled. "Where will you be?"

There was no humour in Legolas' smile. "He wants to speak to the captains in private. I expect there will be a message waiting for you when you return home, if you left too early to see it this morning. In any case, I may have other business in the morning, so if Aeroniel or Colfind can take the first patrol and you, Saeldur, can supervise training again –"

"Legolas," Saeldur interrupted. "We will do all that. But you know we are not here only to supervise training and help you sort out the duty rosters."

"We are here to support you," Rochendilwen added. "To give you counsel, but also to support your decisions. You asked for our views last night, and you had them. But we trust you, or we would not follow you. Whatever you need of us, it will be done."

That drew the first real smile Rochendilwen had seen on Legolas that day.

"I know. I never doubted your loyalty. It is best that I say nothing until you have spoken to the King tonight. He will want your unbiased opinions. I am grateful for your concern, but there is no reason to worry."

Rochendilwen exchanged a glance with Saeldur, knowing they were thinking precisely the same thing.

There was every reason to worry.

* * *

Her view was confirmed barely an hour later.

Since training had been cancelled and Legolas was in no mood to talk, she and Saeldur parted. Rochendilwen intended to try to find out what had happened at Council from those who might be willing to explain.

When Rochendilwen went home to put away her bow and quiver, she found her aunt there. That in itself was surprising; Lady Mídhaer would normally have had her duties as commander of the Western Guard keeping her occupied through most of the morning. Apparently Legolas and Thorontur were not the only ones who had found that morning's Council disrupting.

Mídhaer was in the sitting-room writing a letter, her pen stabbing at the page so hard that Rochendilwen was certain she would tear it.

"Is anything the matter?" she ventured.

Her aunt turned to her, making an obvious attempt to smile. "Rochendilwen. I thought the archers had training with Thorontur this morning."

"Legolas cancelled it." Rochendilwen pulled a chair up to the window beside Mídhaer. "Lord Thorontur was in… something of a temper." Mídhaer's guilty start confirmed her suspicions. "Did something happen in Council? Did you and Thorontur have an argument?"

"Did Legolas say so?"

"Legolas said nothing to us, but from what he said to Thorontur…" Rochendilwen glanced at her aunt and then outside. "I have seldom seen him in such a foul temper."

"Who? Legolas or Thorontur?"

"Both. Either."

"If you are asking me what happened in Council, I can only assume that you already asked Legolas and he refused to tell you. You cannot truly expect that I will disclose information that your commanding officer decided to withhold."

Rochendilwen had known that would be a sticking-point.

"If you were involved, my lady," she said carefully, "Legolas might simply have wanted to spare my feelings. Besides, he did not say that he would not tell us what happened, only that he did not want to bias us before we spoke to the King. You are neither my commanding officer nor the Archery Master, so you may tell me without fear of biasing my views." When Mídhaer still looked uncertain, Rochendilwen pressed, "You know I do not ask for the sake of idle curiosity. I only want to know so that I may serve Legolas better."

"_That _I do not doubt. I have never had such loyalty from my captains as Legolas has from his." Mídhaer laughed. "I suppose it will do no harm to tell you why Thorontur was angry, at least."

Rochendilwen waited.

"That, I fear, _was_ my doing," Mídhaer went on, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. "But before you accuse me of mischief, I assure you it was never my intention to create difficulties for Legolas, though it was perhaps an inevitable consequence of my discussion with Thorontur."

"I never imagined that you would _want _to create difficulties for Legolas," Rochendilwen assured her aunt.

"I pointed out to Thorontur that several members of court consider his views… inconsistent, given how strongly he has always supported Legolas' right to choose when to risk his life." Mídhaer shrugged. "I admit I did not phrase it very tactfully, but it is a fact that he must face, and a question he will have to answer."

"Oh." Rochendilwen did not ask for further explanation; what her aunt had told her was enough. "I do not imagine he was pleased."

"No."

"But… You do not truly believe he –"

"Oh, no," her aunt said quickly, cutting her off. "_No. _I know Thorontur better than that. But I very much fear he does not know _himself _better than that."

"What do you mean?"

"His dislike for Calathiel's plan is instinctive. He has not thought about _why _he dislikes it, and he does not dare think about too deeply because he is afraid that at the root he will find that he truly _is _more willing to risk Legolas' life than those of his children. And that is a thought he cannot bear. I think, though, that if he finds the courage to examine his own heart, he will find an answer that need not upset him."

"And you… do you agree with Calathiel?"

"I think she should have her chance to prove herself to the weapons masters, if that is what she wants. But I do wish she had chosen to go to Ellaurë instead. It would have made matters less… complicated."

"How?" Rochendilwen demanded indignantly.

Her aunt looked amused. "I mean no insult to Legolas. He is a fine commander, but the Home Guard is safer. And Ellaurë is not as interesting a figure as our warrior-prince as far as court is concerned. We might have had less rumour to contend with." Her smile turned into a slight grimace. "Thorontur is angry with me, and perhaps with some cause. None of his anger is on Legolas' account, although some of his frustration may be. Legolas knows this as well as I do, and he is not unduly disturbed – no more than any of us is. It is an uncomfortable situation when there is dissent in the War Council."

Rochendilwen nodded. She knew genuine friendship and mutual respect existed among the Elves the King most trusted to defend his realm. The warriors all knew it, and counted on it; it gave them a sense of security.

"Is there serious dissent now?"

"Worse," Mídhaer said grimly. "There is resentment." Then she shook her head. But do not let that worry you, not even for Legolas' sake. It will not last."

* * *

That night Rochendilwen could not help reflecting that her aunt had been wrong, just as Legolas had been wrong. Sanguine as they both seemed, there was every need to worry.

The largest of the Council chambers was packed with the captains and sundry junior officers who had come to speak to the King and Lord Arbellason. Despite the respect accorded to the King and the High Commander, and despite the King's repeated explanations that he wanted their views only, and no decisions were being taken tonight, more than one quarrel had broken out.

The Elves of the War Council, who, despite their differences, trusted each other utterly, might be able to treat this as a brief disagreement and even to laugh about it later. About the warriors in general Rochendilwen could not be so certain.

Rochendilwen herself had already had a heated argument with two of Ellaurë's captains, who, in her view, had been committing the double offence of being disloyal to their commanding officer, and, more damningly, disrespectful to Legolas. And more than once it had required the firm intervention of Aeroniel or Colfind to keep Saeldur from coming to blows with someone.

Of course, the quarrels had quietened once the King had entered the room. But even his presence could not entirely do away with the undercurrent of resentment.

"Why would he do this?" she murmured to Aeroniel, who was standing next to her. "He must have known that if the War Council could not come to an agreement, the captains certainly would not."

Aeroniel shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted to know what to expect when a decision is eventually made. One thing is clear. No matter what is done in the end, there will be those who object strongly."

"Perhaps it is best that we know where everybody stands," Saeldur muttered.

Most unfortunately, he spoke loudly enough to be overheard by one of Ellaurë's captains, who said, "Perhaps it is best if you know where _you _stand, Saeldur."

Her tone was polite, out of deference to the King and Lord Arbellason, but there was no mistaking the challenging light in her eyes.

"What are you saying?" Saeldur asked coldly.

"Defending a decision you do not truly support? That is not why we are here."

"Saeldur," Aeroniel said warningly, but Saeldur ignored her.

"I thought I made myself amply clear, Eglos. I do have doubts. Healers are unaccustomed to following orders, and they will find it a difficult lesson to learn."

"You know that, and yet you speak in favour of letting them go into battle. Because _Legolas _thought it was a good plan. Are you so frightened of Legolas?"

"I trust my commander's judgement, and I abide by it willingly." There was definite hostility in Saeldur's voice. "If you cannot say the same, it is hardly my fault."

"Saeldur!" Colfind hissed. "This is not helping."

"I think the fact that I am free to disagree with Lady Ellaurë without fear of repercussion says more about her judgement than your blind obedience says about Legolas'," Eglos responded.

"Enough!" Arbellason snapped, before Saeldur could retaliate. "Both of you! Do you really imagine either Lady Ellaurë or Prince Legolas would be at all pleased by this ridiculous bickering, or that they have anything but the deepest respect for each other? I know one thing they _do _both expect of their captains, and that is to be able to speak your minds without letting what should be a conversation between grown Elves devolve into childish squabbling."

Eglos blushed and dropped her gaze. Saeldur looked mutinous.

That was far from the only quarrel that broke out, though, and Rochendilwen was certain it would have been far worse if not for the King's restraining presence. By the time they left, the tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

"Come." Colfind seized Saeldur's arm and pulled him in the direction of the door. "We should go."

* * *

Legolas was neither in his study nor in his room, nor, as they ascertained from the duty officer, had he gone on a patrol.

"We can speak to him in the morning," Aeroniel said. "Legolas must have known as well as any of us that nothing would come of a meeting of the captains."

"We will be unlikely to see him before breakfast," Saeldur protested.

"You mean you will be unlikely to give him your version of your various quarrels before the King has a chance to speak to him," Aeroniel said, unimpressed. "I would not worry. That you can be intemperate in your responses will not come as a surprise."

"Intemperate!" Saeldur began indignantly.

"Leave it be," Rochendilwen interjected. "There has been enough squabbling for one evening. We do not need to add to it now. Aeroniel is right, Saeldur. Legolas will not be shocked to learn you lost your temper." She shrugged. "If the next Council goes as today's went, I doubt he will even care."

Saeldur looked as though he wanted to ask if her aunt had said anything, but he did not, possibly because he wanted to hear it directly from Legolas, but more likely because the events of the next few days would render what had happened in the last War Council a moot point anyway.

Aeroniel waited until both he and Colfind had left before asking, "How _did _today's Council go?"

* * *

Rochendilwen's talk with Aeroniel was necessarily brief. There was little to be said on the subject, after all, that they had not already discussed.

As she was making her way home, she saw Legolas and Feredir going towards the stronghold. They had clearly been walking in the forest.

That was no surprise, but Feredir's expression – a cross between desperation and unhappiness – was. Rochendilwen had not seen him look like that since he had given up his ill-judged attempt to be a warrior.

And that, she supposed, answered the question of what they had been doing.

She hesitated, wondering whether to join them. Feredir might not welcome company. But then Legolas saw her and beckoned her over.

"How bad was it?" Feredir asked when she was near enough.

Rochendilwen laughed, though she could not coax much humour into it. "It was as you would expect, plenty of hot-blooded argument. I suppose that is a sign of things to come."

Feredir shook his head. "I… I cannot do it. Even if Calathiel ever does, I cannot –"

"I know," Rochendilwen interrupted. "We all know. Why should you think anyone will ask it of you? Every last one of the King's warriors is willing – more than willing – to take up arms to defend the realm. Nobody would ever think of sending any Elves to any place, especially to battle, if they do not want to go."

"But do you not see?" Feredir sounded desperate. "I _want _to go. I would give _anything _to be able to go, to know that my father does not for my sake have to endure being called a coward."

Rochendilwen gave a guilty start. Fortunately, nobody noticed.

"Feredir," Legolas said quietly, "get some rest. You will feel better. None of us expects anything of you, and those who do are not worth worrying about." He glanced at Rochendilwen. "I am taking the night patrol. I will see you in the morning."

* * *

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	4. Be Cruel to Be Kind

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed Part III.

* * *

**Part IV: Be Cruel to Be Kind**

"Wine?" Thranduil asked.

Arbellason nodded, going to the jug on the sideboard to fill two cups. He handed one to Thranduil and sat down with the other himself.

"Where is Legolas?"

The Elven-king laughed a little bitterly. "He has taken the night patrol. He could not get out of the stronghold quickly enough… Oh, he will be at Council. I have impressed that necessity upon him. Do not worry."

"I was not worried about that."

Arbellason hesitated, and Thranduil understood the cause. His friend had a good relationship with his son, but it was nothing like the bond Legolas shared with Thorontur, which had grown even stronger when Feredir had given up his sword, leaving Legolas as the only one of the young warriors Thorontur could see as the inheritor of his legacy.

"Thorontur's reaction did not upset him?" Arbellason asked at last.

"I think he was prepared for far worse."

"And what about Legolas' friends? Judging by what we just witnessed, dissent in the War Council will not stay confined to the War Council this time."

Thranduil shrugged. Aeroniel was level-headed enough, but Saeldur had a fierce temper to go with his fierce loyalty, and as respectful as he normally was towards King and Council, Thranduil had no illusions about where that loyalty truly lay. Normally it made no difference – as far as Thranduil was concerned, loyalty to his son was loyalty to him – but at this time it might cause complications. Even Rochendilwen, whom Thranduil had never seen angry, had shown some signs of belligerence.

"Saeldur will not make trouble for Legolas," he said, having thought it over. "If he wants to argue with Thorontur, that is between them. I think we can trust to Aeroniel's good judgement to keep him and Rochendilwen from doing or saying anything drastic." Thranduil hesitated and then went on, "I have sent for Thorontur now."

"That is as well. Perhaps we can persuade him to be more moderate in his reactions before the others."

They sat in silence for some time, enjoying the wine. It was several minutes before Thorontur joined them. The temperature in the room seemed to drop with his entry.

He ignored Thranduil's greeting, throwing himself into a chair and demanding, "Why am I here?"

"To share a cup of wine with us," Thranduil said mildly. "Is that so difficult?"

"A cup of _wine_? Is this any time for a cup of wine?"

Arbellason poured a cup for him and held it out. "We all agreed when Thranduil became King that arguments in the Council chamber would stay in the Council chamber. Have a cup of wine."

"_You _say this to me? After today's Council –"

Arbellason squared his shoulders, putting the cup down. "What did I say in Council that was so terrible?"

"What did you…" Thorontur shook his head in disbelief. "Very well, I will refresh your memory. You accused me of being careless of Thranduil's son's safety. Of _Legolas' _safety." He turned on Thranduil. "And _you _sat by and listened."

"Leave Thranduil out of this if your quarrel is with me," Arbellason said. "And I never said you were careless of Legolas' safety."

"What right do you have to say _anything _on the subject?" Thorontur snapped. "Are _you _the one who sits with Legolas in the Healing Wards when his father is too busy with duties of state? Are you the one there to soothe him when he has borne the brunt of Thranduil's temper? Are you –"

"Enough!" Thranduil interrupted. "I did not call you here to discuss my failings as a father. Nobody is attempting to deny what you have been to Legolas."

"I might not have had the advantage of hours of archery lessons over which Legolas could confide in me," Arbellason interjected tightly, "but if you imagine I do not care about him – and that is not even the point!"

"I thought it was _your _point!"

"You love Legolas, you say – and, yes, I know it is true. You love him as a son. Yet when Thranduil was reluctant to let him go where the danger was greatest, who was it who told him that a King who is willing to share the fate of the warriors must be willing to share the fear of their families? And from that fear you now remove yourself –"

"Do not _dare _tell me I do not worry about Legolas, or that I worry less about him than I would about Feredir or Calathiel. I have spent far longer helping the Healers bind his wounds than even Thranduil has –"

"Once again, Thorontur," Thranduil said, his voice almost a low growl, "I did not summon you to discuss my failings as a father."

"Why _am _I here?"

"I hoped we could have a civilized conversation."

Thorontur got to his feet. "If there is no other way in which I can serve you, my lord, I must ask your leave to retire."

Arbellason stared. "What is wrong with you?"

"Your leave, my lord," Thorontur repeated stubbornly.

Thranduil let out a breath. "Very well, go."

* * *

"Spider," Húrphen hissed.

Legolas followed the direction of his pointing finger. There was more than one spider. A quick count revealed at least a dozen.

Legolas made a discreet signal to unsheathe bows, grateful that the patrol was made up entirely of his archers, who were accustomed to obeying gestures and would need no verbal commands. He did not bother turning to see if the instruction had been followed. The archers would be most seriously offended by any suggestion that he doubted their instant obedience.

He waited, as the spiders scuttled closer through the trees. More than twelve… Fourteen, sixteen, twenty.

Legolas gestured again, and the air was thick with arrows.

* * *

"I do not believe you."

Saeldur forced himself to keep his expression mild. "I do not understand, my lord."

"No?" Míron sneered. "Perhaps spending so much time with halfbloods and fools has addled your brain. Let me explain." He got to his feet. "You and Legolas have been friends since you were both children. Everyone knows this. You are his second-in-command. The most trusted of his captains." Míron was directly before him now, cold eyes holding Saeldur's. "Tell me, which is likelier? That you have suddenly abandoned your dearest friend and are trying to kill him to claim his father's throne? Or that you are here to spy on his behalf?"

For Legolas, Saeldur reminded himself. This was for Legolas, and he had to do and say anything it took to make Míron believe him.

"I would never have done this for the sake of the throne. I am acting for the good of the realm I am sworn to serve. I do not deny that it has been a difficult decision. But I have seen the truth of what you say. Legolas _is_ my dearest friend, but he is weak. He has too much of his mother in him, and he has not the heart for battle. There are times when sacrifices must be made."

"All true," Míron conceded, stepping away. "But explain what you mean. To say that our beloved warrior-prince has no heart for battle… Not many would agree with you, Saeldur. And yet you of all Elves should know that best – perhaps even better than the King."

Saeldur fought not to clench his fists. That he had been brought to this! To stand here and lay Legolas' weaknesses bare to his enemies!

But this was for Legolas' sake, he reminded himself, and no other thought could have made him go on.

"He has too much pity in his heart, even for the most wretched of creatures. I do not deny his courage, but too much kindliness will be his undoing. And ours."

"Also true. But so far you have given me only words, Saeldur."

"I do not know what you expect of me, my lord."

"Perhaps you can answer some questions for me." Míron sat again, gesturing to Saeldur to take the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, beside Arahael. "Answer truthfully."

Saeldur nodded, sitting.

For Legolas. He would endure this vile Elf and his viler words.

"Have you and Legolas ever quarrelled?"

Saeldur almost laughed at that. It was hardly a secret. "We argue, my lord. Often. But we do not have many serious quarrels."

"Why not?"

Saeldur blinked. "It hardly seems worth it, when we risk our lives everyday."

"I suppose not." Míron smiled. "And Legolas and Thranduil? Do they never have serious quarrels either?"

Saeldur drew in a slow breath. This was more difficult. Every member of court, possibly every Elf in Middle-earth and most of the Men and Dwarves, knew that the Elven-king had a hot temper, and Legolas was not far behind. Very few Elves knew how often those tempers could flare in the privacy of the royal quarters – especially Thranduil's, since the King did not have the option of channelling his anger into his battles.

But he had to make Míron believe him. Eredhion and Voronwë would do their best to keep Legolas safe, but they had no idea of the extent of Míron's planning, something Saeldur himself was only now learning. Míron would outsmart them easily.

"Sometimes they do," he said quietly. "But they do not last long."

"Has the King ever said or suggested that Legolas is in any way to blame for Lindariel's death?"

This at least Saeldur could answer truthfully. "Not to my knowledge, my lord."

"Would Legolas have told you?"

"If he told anybody in Eryn Galen, he would tell me. But it is possible that the prince's guards know more of the matter than I do, even without being told."

"Yes, Eredhion and Voronwë are always in and out of the royal quarters. I expect they do hear a great deal that nobody else does… Tell me this, then. Has Legolas ever spoken to you of what happened the night Lindariel died?"

Elbereth. Saeldur still remembered that every word of that conversation, the night before Legolas had begun his duties again after the Queen's death. He remembered huddling under a shared cloak in the highest branches of an oak – the cloak more to conceal the beacon of Legolas' bright hair from guards on patrol than against the cold; it had been a warm night. He remembered the quiver in Legolas' voice and the tears shining on his cheeks in the starlight.

That was one confidence Saeldur could not betray, not even for this.

Yet he knew Míron would not believe him if he denied it altogether.

"Legolas has told me some things," he said at last. "Eredhion and Voronwë will know more, as will the sons of Elrond."

That much, at least, was true. Saeldur had heard everything Legolas remembered, but that was little. He had been only half-conscious through most of the events of that horrific night. Saeldur had never tried to find out more than Legolas could tell him. It would have felt like betrayal.

This felt like betrayal.

"Perhaps." Míron shrugged. "Perhaps not. Do you think Legolas was responsible for what happened to Lindariel?"

"He was little more than a child," Saeldur said easily. "He had only begun his weapons training. Bregolien was a fine swordsman with many years of experience. I doubt Legolas could have prevented what happened."

Míron surveyed him narrowly. "And if it were… necessary… Could you persuade Legolas that he is to blame?"

Elbereth. "Perhaps. Legolas trusts me. He lets it cloud his judgement. I might persuade him that he is as guilty as if he held the sword himself. If I had to." Saeldur met Míron's calculating gaze. "Do you trust me now?"

"I would dearly like to, Saeldur. It would make our task so much easier if we could trust you. You are close to Legolas. He would never dream of doubting you."

"I have answered all your questions."

"You have given me more than I thought you would, but you have still given me only words." Míron leaned forward. "I must think on what you have said. Tomorrow. Noon. Come to the beech tree by the fork in the stream behind the stronghold, and come alone. I will tell you then how to prove yourself."

"You want to speak of this in the forest?" Saeldur asked. "And in broad daylight? Word will reach Legolas if you do."

"I know how to silence the trees," Míron said dismissively.

* * *

"Sound off!" Legolas called.

The archers named themselves as they walked among the carcasses of the spiders, making certain they were all dead and using quick knife thrusts to end any signs of movement.

"All well," said Húrphen, when everybody had finished. "What now?"

Legolas looked around. "Who is not on patrol tomorrow?" Four hands went up. Legolas nodded. "The four of you, then – follow their tracks and see where they came from. If they came from the south and merely slipped past the border guard…" He shrugged. "That we can deal with."

"If there is a nest within our borders?" asked an _elleth_.

"I trust your judgement, Tinthel. If it is small enough, destroy it. If not, leave a guard and come back to the stronghold for reinforcements. Ask for Lady Ellaurë if you cannot find me. Do not take any unnecessary risks."

* * *

Saeldur sat in his room in the warriors' quarters, knowing sleep would not come that night.

Legolas would return from patrol soon, but Saeldur did not dare go find him. He would not put it past Míron to have his room watched, and too much depended on Míron believing he had Saeldur's wholehearted support.

He bit his lip, turning a page of the book he was trying to read.

He did not even dare tell Eredhion and Voronwë. He did not doubt their loyalty to Legolas – they would die for him – but he could not risk Míron finding out.

His fists clenched, and he quickly shoved the book onto a shelf to keep himself from throwing it across the room.

Had Candnaur known of Míron's plot? He must have known. He had been the next in line, after Legolas, and if Míron was trying to involve Saeldur, he would have tried to involve his older brother. And while Saeldur knew Candnaur would have been horrified by the very thought, Míron might not have known that.

But… if that had happened… Surely Candnaur would have _told _him. He would not have heard about a plot against the life of the prince and kept quiet about it. He could not have been _involved_…

Saeldur snuffed out the thought before it had a chance to form, appalled at himself. He had been about to name his brother a traitor. He did suppose for a moment that it was truly possible. This was what came of associating with spies and schemers. Saeldur was turning into one himself.

* * *

Seeing the light under the door, Legolas knocked.

When he went in, he was surprised to see Lord Arbellason still there. He had expected his father to be alone in his sitting-room at this hour. He was about to apologize and leave, but the King gestured for him to enter. Legolas went, dropping into the chair beside his father's.

"Peaceful watch?" Arbellason asked, filling a cup with wine and holding it out to him him.

Legolas took it with a nod of acknowledgement. "We came across some spiders. We dealt with them. I have sent some archers to find out if there are more." He turned to his father. "You look troubled. Is something wrong?"

Thranduil reached out to run a hand over his head. "Nothing can be wrong while you are safe, Legolas."

* * *

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	5. Keep the Faith

**Author's Note: **So this is going to be the last chapter of this fic – and now that I've delivered the bad news, here's the rest: The story _was _originally meant to have eight chapters – I'd written eight chapters – but when I got to this point, I realized there was too much intensity crammed into too little space in the last three chapters. Also, their tone was very different from the first five, so it didn't really make sense as a single fic.

This story ends here, and I'll be rewriting and expanding the last three chapters into a separate fic. I won't start posting for a few weeks, at least, because I have finals and essays and other dreadful things coming up. But when they're over, if I survive, you'll get next part of the arc.

Enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

**Part V: Keep the Faith**

Legolas was awake early the next morning, having slept little the previous night. Despite the early hour, his father was away. Legolas briefly debated having a tray sent up, decided he had much rather speak to his friends if he could find them, and went down to breakfast in the dining hall.

Aeroniel and Saeldur were there already.

"The King's morning for petitions?" Saeldur asked, a hopeful edge to his voice as he pushed a basket of bread in Legolas' direction.

Legolas laughed. "Yes, but not to worry. He told me all about your… encounters… with Ellaurë's captains last night. And with Bercalion's captains."

Saeldur flushed. "Legolas, I know you would not have wanted me to squabble, but… I was truly provoked."

Legolas shrugged. "The reason the King summoned you was so that you would not feel constrained by what your commanding officers would want you to say or do. I cannot fault you for fulfilling his wishes."

"All the same," Saeldur mumbled, looking uncomfortable.

Legolas glanced at Aeroniel. "Is there something I should know that my father has not told me?"

"Ignore him," she responded. "He is still unhappy about last night. In your defence, though, Saeldur, I will say that Eglos should not have said as much as she did."

Before Legolas could ask any of the questions that sprang to his mind, Ellaurë appeared behind Aeroniel.

Saeldur, obviously grateful for the interruption, smiled up at her. "My lady."

Ellaurë pulled out the chair beside Aeroniel's. "I thought I might find you here," she said to Legolas. "The duty officer just reported to me – the warriors you sent to track the spiders you encountered last night have sent word."

"They have found the nest?"

"They have found _a _nest, very close to the southern border. They have reason to believe there is another larger one beyond the border, but they did not want to venture that far without your leave."

Legolas barely needed a moment to make up his mind. "I have to speak to Lord Norgalad now, about his next trip into the Mannish lands, but I have little to do this afternoon. I will go myself." At Ellaurë's raised eyebrows, he added, "I will return in time for the Council."

"I do not doubt that, but speak to your father before you go."

"Of course, my lady."

Ellaurë laughed. "By your leave, then, my prince."

"I will go with you," Saeldur said as she walked away.

"You are still recovering from your grievous injury," Legolas pointed out. Aeroniel quickly hid her laughter in her cup. "And a nest of spiders is unlikely to be particularly dangerous."

"I have healed enough for this. And you should not go alone."

"I will be perfectly fine. I have ventured further on my own before." Saeldur only looked at him pleadingly. "Why are you so desperate to go south?"

"I am not desperate to go south. I only think… Please. Trust me. Let me come with you."

Legolas sighed. Saeldur was not scheduled for any patrols or training supervision over the next two days in any case, so it would not disrupt the duty roster. And with the approaching Council meeting, nearly all the Sindarin and Silvan lords were in the stronghold – more than enough warriors that their absence would not matter.

"Come, then," he said at last. "We leave with the first afternoon patrol."

* * *

Legolas went to the far wing of the stronghold after breakfast. It was bustling despite the early hour, Elves standing singly or in small groups waiting to be called to the King. Several greeted him as he passed. He paused to respond, and to exchange a few words with those he knew.

As a result, he reached his study with a scant minute in which to catch his breath before there was knocking on the door.

Legolas opened it. "Lord Norgalad."

Norgalad waited for an invitation to sit. But he shook his head when Legolas offered him the letter he had received from Esgaroth.

"We can look into that later. That is not why I am here."

Legolas kept his expression neutral, although he wanted to roll his eyes. Of course Norgalad was not there for something relatively simple. No doubt he had something to complain about that even _he _feared to take to the King.

"Why _are _you here, my lord?"

"Council will meet in three days, and Istuion tells me he has put the Lady Calathiel's request in our order of business."

Legolas could not keep himself from stiffening. He hoped Norgalad had not come hoping to start a quarrel. He had no need, of course; if he wanted an argument, there were ample members of court to give him one, without his having to seek Legolas for that purpose.

"What do you think of it?" Norgalad went on, blithely unaware of Legolas' reaction.

"I hardly think this is the appropriate time or place for this conversation."

"No?" Norgalad steepled his hands, gazing at Legolas over the tops of his fingers. "I know the answer in any case. Arguments between the realm's military commanders might be private, but their views, at least in this instance, are not."

Legolas waited. He knew enough of his companion to know that it was best to let him say what he wished without interruption.

"When I first heard of it," Norgalad said, "I was… quite frankly, horrified by the idea. Healing belongs… _here_, in whatever peace there is to be had. To profane the minds of those whose pursuit is to preserve life with such intimate knowledge of the taking of it, even if that life is only of Orcs and Spiders… Even you, I am certain, and no matter what you say now, must have thought at first that it was very nearly blasphemous."

Legolas' patience ran out. "Do you have a point, Lord Norgalad?"

"I am not a fool, Legolas. I do not always agree with the decisions the King and his commanders make in the defence of the realm, but I do, I hope, have enough faith in them to know that, if nothing else, they always do what they _believe _is in the best interests of Greenwood and her people. I think that the very idea of permitting non-combatants anywhere near a battle is… worse than blasphemous, it is sheer idiocy. And yet, when the War Council meets, and I hear that the majority of them spoke in _favour _of the scheme… I wonder why."

"What do you want of me?" Legolas asked slowly.

"I want to understand why you, you and Ellaurë and Mídhaer, and by most accounts Arbellason and Maeglad and Bercalion, think that there is merit in this idea."

"I cannot speak for the others, my lord."

"But you can tell me what _you _think."

Legolas shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I think, perhaps, the issue is not as simple as you make it sound. Battle is violent and bloody and sometimes terrifying – true – but if I thought any of my archers enjoyed_ that_, enjoyed violence and bloodshed and inspiring terror, that archer would no longer be serving under my command."

"_You _enjoy archery."

"Shooting at targets on the practice range? Yes, I do. And I will admit that sometimes killing a minion of the Enemy, something evil that threatens Greenwood gives me a sense of… accomplishment, for a duty done. I do not enjoy killing for its own sake. And while I require, or at least attempt to require, the same of my warriors, there is ample room for a world of difference. There are those who are utterly repulsed by bloodshed, but take up the bow out of a sense of duty, and those who find that, when the victim is allied with the Enemy, killing becomes merely distasteful."

"And is that true of any Elf who ventures onto a battlefield?"

"It is true of any Elf who ventures onto a battlefield with my leave. It is, I am certain, true of most of the Healers as well. They have not been tried, I admit. There will be some who will hate the battlefield with every fibre. There may be some, though Elbereth grant it be not so, who might take a perverse pleasure in it. There will be some who will see past the battle to the injured who need to be tended."

"That may be," Norgalad said with a negligent shrug. "But you are no child; nor, like so many of your archers, do you have the luxury of being ignorant of the functioning of court. Calathiel claims that healers immediately on the battlefield will be helpful. But they will have only what they can carry with them, the most basic medicines and very few supplies. The closest spring or water source might be leagues away. Under those circumstances, will they be able to save lives, or even significantly alleviate suffering? And if not, is it worth causing all this trouble for a matter of principle?"

"Are you asking me to withdraw my views because they might cause debate in court?"

"No!" Norgalad snapped impatiently. "I thought I made myself clear. I want to understand _why _you feel as you do."

"My lord," Legolas said evenly, "it has been impressed upon me from the day I was born that my first duty is and always will be to Eryn Galen. By the favour of Elbereth I have enough skill with a bow to take it up in the defence of my father's realm and people. But if I did not, I would still want to do everything I could, use whatever talents I had. Personally, I believe that serving in the Healing Wards is vital, and honourable work, and I told Calathiel as much. But it does not matter that I think so. If any Elves want to serve on battlefields in any way, and if they are willing to endure what I do not doubt will be several difficult years of training under Lord Thorontur and Lord Maeglad, I believe they should not be denied the opportunity."

* * *

Saeldur felt like a thief as he slipped down the path unnoticed. He knew, logically, there was no reason to worry – he was not on duty, and he had a perfect right to be where he was going. There was no reason for today to be different, or for anyone even to know what he had done unless he told them.

All the same, he could not help feeling as though a hundred eyes were watching his every move.

Míron was waiting for him at the appointed place. Saeldur had the impression he had been standing there for some time.

"You came," he said abruptly.

"I said I would," Saeldur responded. "What do you want with me?"

"I understand that Legolas intends to hunt spiders. And that you plan to accompany him."

Saeldur's eyes widened as he wondered who could have told Míron that, and then he remembered that they had been discussing it in the dining hall, and they had not troubled to lower their voices. Anyone might have overheard. Arahael might have overheard.

"Yes," Saeldur confirmed.

"Do not go."

"What?"

"It is simple, Saeldur. Tell Legolas your injury still troubles you – tell him you are tired – tell him anything. But do not accompany him."

"Why?" Saeldur demanded. "Do you intend to…"

"To strike?" Míron sneered. "No. Not so soon. All eyes would be on us if I did. It would never pass for an accident. If Legolas _should_ die before he returns, it will not be my doing. But I thought that did not matter to you."

"I never said that!" Saeldur snapped. "He is my friend. Of course it matters to me."

"But…"

"But." Saeldur took a deep breath and forced out the words. "But I understand that it must be, for the good of the realm – and that is more important than my personal feelings."

Míron smiled. "So stay behind."

"What will that achieve?"

"Nothing. I will know you can be trusted – to an extent. That is all." There was a pause, and then Míron glanced up at the trees. "Not one word of this to your precious Elf-prince, do you understand?" There was an ominous creaking. "My son has orders. If Saeldur and I do not return to the stronghold safely, there will be poison in Legolas' wine." The forest stood still. "A single word to him, or to anyone, and you will make me desperate. If this reaches his ears, or, worse, Thranduil's, I will have nothing more to lose. Legolas will die before the day is out."

Saeldur caught his breath. Míron's mind was well and truly twisted. Whatever it cost him in sleepless nights and the trust of his friends, he had to play out this charade for Legolas' sake.

"Well?" Míron asked impatiently. "Will you do it?"

Saeldur lifted his chin. "I will."

* * *

"You cannot come?"

Legolas sounded more startled than displeased. All the same, Saeldur flushed.

"I… my leg, it still… I will slow you down."

Legolas' expression turned to worry. "Does it still trouble you? Perhaps you should go to the healers. It might be infected."

"It is not that bad, Legolas. I will be fine after a night's rest."

Legolas nodded, accepting that statement, and went on filling his pack. Since he was planning to return in two days, he was taking very little beyond his weapons and spare bowstrings.

"Be careful," Saeldur said, pulling the pack towards him so he could stuff in a pouch of bandages and herbs for poultices, making Legolas roll his eyes.

"It is not the first time I have left the stronghold. I know how to pack. And hunting down a few spiders is unlikely to be terribly dangerous."

"Then why are you going?" Saeldur demanded. "Any of the archers could help cull some spiders, Legolas. _You_ do not need to go."

"Yes, I do!" Legolas shut his pack and tested the straps. "I need to get away. Norgalad came to me today to complain that we are causing undue distress in court. I do not want to know who is going to come complain tomorrow. The King will have my ears if I miss Council, but there is no need for me to wait here until then and listen to the strictures of every _ellon _and _elleth_ who wishes to practice the argument."

"Legolas."

Legolas sighed. "Forgive me. It is not your fault. I should not have snapped at you."

"Promise me you will be careful."

"I will."

* * *

"You let him _go_?"

Ellaurë fixed Thorontur with a glare. "Legolas, permit me to remind you, is prince of this realm and commander of the archers. He chose to respond to their request in person. That is his prerogative. I did not _let _him do anything."

"We have Council the day after tomorrow! And court the day after that."

"I believe," Thranduil interjected firmly, "that all my commanders can be trusted to be present in the stronghold when they are required. Legolas knows there will be Council and he knows I expect him there and in court. He will return in time."

As Thorontur made an angry noise, Thranduil exchanged a glance with Arbellason. He had summoned War Council, or as many of its members were present. Legolas was not the only one who had seized the chance to get away from the oppressive atmosphere in the stronghold for a couple of days. Mîr-megil and Ionwë had discovered the need for urgent inspections of the border guards, Maeglad had taken his students on a training exercise, and Bercalion had volunteered to carry messages to the southern settlements.

"You are very anxious all of a sudden, Thorontur," Mídhaer snapped.

Thorontur transferred his scowl to her. "You have accused me of giving over command of the archers to Legolas –"

"Accusation implies uncertainty. Everyone knows you gave up command of the archers to Legolas."

Thranduil considered intervening, but decided against it. If he let them shout at each other behind the closed doors of the Council chamber, they might still manage to be civilized in court.

"And what else _should _I have done?" Thorontur demanded. "To whom should I have given up command of the archers, if not to the King's son and the finest archer in the realm?"

"If you think Legolas is a good commander –"

"I think no Elf in the realm would have been a better commander," Thorontur said fiercely. "I think he is a better commander than _I _was or ever would have been. And if you believe otherwise… you truly understand nothing."

* * *

THE END

* * *

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